


Little Red and The Frog Prophet

by Trigger Finger (NatashaCole)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Swearing, Violence, fairy tale shenannigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 07:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16849843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatashaCole/pseuds/Trigger%20Finger
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a fierce hunter who was feared by every monster that encountered her. It was in her nature to hunt; but she is assigned the job of babysitting the Prophet Chuck to protect him from Heaven and Hell. While Chuck writes the Winchester Gospels, reader finds solace in a collection of fairy tales that she often reads out loud to Chuck on particularly boring evenings. She wakes up one night to find that she has slipped into some sort of mixed up fairy tale dream that she can’t get out of. Is it a spell? Or is it a trick that’s keeping her here?





	Little Red and The Frog Prophet

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for @riversong-sam Fairy Tale Mashup Challenge, and it was definitely a challenge! My fairy tales were: Little Red Riding Hood and The Frog Prince. It took me a long time to write, and didn’t turn out as great as I had hoped, but here it is anyway!

“You and your fairy tales,” Chuck grinned as he shook his head at you.

“What? They’re much more interesting that that crap that you write.”

“That’s rude,” Chuck frowned. He went back to typing as you smiled at him. “Besides, it’s not crap, these are prophecies that are actually really important. You know… word of God kind of stuff.”

“Whatever, still crap.”

You kicked your feet up on the couch, laying back as you reopened your book. Now, you were delving into _Hansel and Gretel_ in your Grimm’s Fairy Tale book, pleased at how these stories were not your average children’s fairy tales.

Chuck continued to type away as you read out loud to him. It never seemed to bother him, even as he worked. 

You woke up as moonlight shone through the curtain. You didn’t remember falling asleep, and you groggily wiped sleep from your eyes, feeling as if you had been asleep for hours but curious as to why it was still nighttime.

“Chuck?” You called out as you glanced around the room, realizing that he wasn’t still sitting at his desk..

You were met with silence. It was then that you started to feel a little panicked. Chuck wasn’t where you had left him, and it wasn’t like him to wander off in the middle of the night. Your only job was to watch out for the prophet, and now you were certain that something terrible had happened to him. You began to search through the rooms of the house, rushing about in a panic.

“Chuck!” You shouted. You were in hysterics; surely the Winchesters would not be happy to find out that you had lost the Prophet, who happened to be your only job at the time.

_“Ribbit!”_

You stopped suddenly, listening to the response that you were sure you had heard. It didn’t make sense, but you swear you had heard it.

“Chuck?” You asked slowly.

_“Ribbit.”_

You walked cautiously back to Chuck’s desk where you heard the noise coming from.

“Chuck?”

There, next to Chuck’s glasses and half finished glass of whiskey; sat a small green frog. He was resting atop a pile of papers; what you assumed to be the next chapter in whatever prophecy it was that Chuck was working on currently.

“This is a joke, right?” You bent down until you were eye level with the frog, studying it in an attempt to convince yourself that you were wrong. You felt like a crazy person right now. As a hunter, you had seen your fair share of weird stuff; but this was beyond anything you had ever witnessed before.

The frog looked up at you with piercing blue eyes and you felt your breath catch. Yes, it was a frog, but something about this frog was familiar.

Careful not to touch him, you slid the papers from beneath him, trying to see what it had been that he was working on. The pages were unlike anything you had read from him before.

There were inked words scrawled across the top of the page, obviously written in Chuck’s shaky handwriting.

“For Y/N, who always loves a good fairy tale.” You smiled to yourself, giving the papers a quick glance when you realized that Chuck had written his own fairy tale for you. You looked back down to the frog, who seemed to be looking right back at you.

“This can’t be real,” you said to the frog. “Please tell me that you’re not Chuck.”

_“Ribbit.”_

“Oh god,” you mumbled.

You cautiously scooped the frog up with a newspaper, careful not to touch it, and you placed it in a picnic basket that you had found in Chuck’s kitchen. Why a man who never left the house had a picnic basket, you had no idea, but it worked. You busied yourself with reading through the pages, hoping that there might be some sort of clue there as to what could have happened. You were sure the frog was Chuck, but even you second-guessed yourself still.

“Be quiet!” You shouted as the frog continued to croak incessantly.

You studied the first few pages, now fairly certain that perhaps it was a roadmap of what you should do. The basics were there. It started with the girl who found a frog. She’d have to journey through the woods. You stopped reading, deciding to take it step by step.

You rushed off to your duffel bag, retrieving your red hoodie. You quickly put it on, chuckling to yourself as you realized you were at least fitting into your part.

You returned to the living room, picking up the basket as you made sure the frog… or Chuck, was still in there.

“Don’t worry, Chuck,” you said, “I’ll figure out how to get us out of this.”

You headed out the back door, wondering how on earth you were going to find something resembling a forest in Chuck’s suburban backyard. When you stepped outside in the dark night, you realized that the work had already been done for you. There, directly behind his house, sat an immense outlay of deep, dark woods. You felt like pinching yourself; wondering what the hell was going on. Maybe you were in a dream, or maybe Chuck had written the two of you into some weird prophecy that didn’t make any sense.

Regardless, you assumed you’d have to make your way through the woods to the house that lay deep within. The only problem was, how would you find it?

You walked closer, stopping just at the outside of the trees, examining what lay before you.

“Hello, Little Red.” A voice called out to you. You spun around quickly, startled until you came face to face with him. When you saw who it was, everything made sense. You frowned at him, seething with anger as he grinned at you. Of course it was him, stuff like this always happened because of him.

“What are you doing here?” You spat out.

“I’m the big bad wolf,” Gabriel sneered.

You rolled your eyes at him, not impressed. “No, you’re an archangel who is throwing a tantrum. Now turn this frog back into the Prophet so I can go back to my job.”

“What makes you think this is my fault?”

“It always is,” you replied. “Fix it.”

“What if I don’t?”

You looked around, searching for something to threaten him with when your eyes fell upon an axe stuck in a tree stump. You walked over, retrieving the axe and waving it toward Gabriel.

“Then I’ll just have to chop you up.”

“We both know that little axe won’t hurt me.”

“Maybe, but I’m still willing to try.” You moved toward him, axe in hand.

“Okay, okay,” he said, hands raised in defeat. “There is a way to change him back into the Prophet. Chopping me up isn’t the answer though.”

“Tell me how.”

“Oh, come on,” Gabe smiled, “you know your fairy tales. You live for them. You know exactly how to fix this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Fairy tales… you know, big bad wolf? Little Red? Creepy journey through the woods?”

“Little Red Riding Hood,” you stated now that it all made sense.

“Bingo.”

“You know, in the original story, the wolf dies.”

“Come on sweetheart, play nice.”

“What’s the point?”

“The point is, you need to follow the story to save the Prophet.”

“So what? I make it to grandma’s house, sit back and watch while the huntsman skins you and wears you as a coat? Then this will all be over?”

“Whoa, calm down there. No one is skinning anyone. Besides, you missed part of the story.”

You gave him a confused look; then you glanced down into the basket, Chuck the frog looking right back up at you.”

“There’s no frog in Little Red Riding Hood.”

“Correct.”

You wracked your brain, trying to recall your fairy tales.

“Oh,” you muttered softly, “The Frog Prince…”

“You’re getting better at this.”

“Just fix this, Gabe. I don’t have time for your games.”

“Oh, this one isn’t me. I’m merely a character in the story. I’m not the writer.”

“Who is then?”

Gabriel’s eyes fell to the basket that you were still clinging to.

“The frog? Or… Chuck, I mean?”

“He is a prophet. I’m just here to play a part, just like you.”

“Oh no!” you cried out, “Chuck, what have you done?” You peeked into the basket and Chuck the frog looked up at you.

_“Ribbit!”_

“Be quiet! This is all your fault!”

“You got the story?” Gabe asked. He walked toward you, eyeing you carefully.

“Yeah,” you replied as you pulled the folded pages from the pocket if your hoodie.

“Have you read it?”

“A little bit. It’s how I knew to come to the woods.”

“I’m assuming this lays out exactly what you need to do then.”

“Yeah, it also says I shouldn’t trust the Trickster Wolf.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should take that advice,” he said with a smile. Before you could reply, he was gone.

“Dammit Gabriel…” you muttered.

You picked the basket up, again making sure that Chuck was still safe. He only stared up at you, croaking again and you rolled your eyes. You decided to keep a hold of the axe that you had found, thinking that it might come in handy later. You hadn’t read ahead, so you weren’t sure what Chuck may have thrown in your path. You pulled your hood over your head, sighing heavily as you finally stepped into the woods.

* * *

The fact that apparently Chuck had written the story to take place in the middle of the night ticked you off. It was difficult to see, and therefore, difficult to maneuver through the thick shrubbery and slick ground. You stepped cautiously, careful not to trip as you were holding a weapon and a frog in a basket. The entire situation made you feel like an idiot.

You walked for some time, eventually humming to yourself as you continued on a path that you weren’t even sure would lead you to anything. The fact that you now felt uneasy was the only reason you picked up your pace.

You felt as if someone, or something, was watching you as you walked. You were pretty certain it was Gabriel checking in on you, making sure that you were at least playing along. Maybe he wanted to get out of this story as much as you did; or perhaps he had a lot more to do with it than he was letting on. If there was one thing that you understood about the archangel, it was that Chuck was right in writing the warning of not trusting the wolf.

You stepped out into a clearing suddenly, the forest ground illuminated now that there were no trees blocking the sky. You had hoped you could get to grandma’s house with no problem, but you saw the tall dark figure hunched over before you. You sighed again, not really wanting to play this game.

“Gabriel, this isn’t funny,” you called out to the figure. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end and you realized that you were now afraid. Something in you told you that this wasn’t Gabriel.

The dark figure stood up and you took note of its height. Certainly not short like Gabe, but you figured that he could turn himself in to just about whatever he wanted. Whatever it was, leaned back, letting out a bone-chilling howl into the sky and your blood ran cold.

“Shit,” you muttered. You placed the basket containing Chuck next to a tree as you readied your axe. It was the one weapon that you did have, and you sort of wished you had a gun right now with silver bullets, because you were fairly certain this was a werewolf. You only hoped that the story gave you some leeway on how to actually kill this thing.

“I’m warning you,” you began as you approached the werewolf. “If it’s you, I am going to kill you.” You spoke as if it might just be Gabe taking the form of a werewolf. Maybe he’d back off if he realized you were serious.

“This isn’t funny, Gabe.” You were nervous now as the creature began to pace, eyeing you with yellow eyes and licking its mouth hungrily. It was dangerously close to you now, and you kept your grip on the handle of the axe, ready to strike if you needed to. Something told you that maybe Gabriel never was supposed to be the Big Bad Wolf at all.

Before you could react, the werewolf lunged at you, knocking you down as you cried out. You dropped the axe and began to scramble for it as the werewolf readied itself again to attack. It was fast, but you were quicker. Just as it leapt at you again, snarling and hungry, you swung your axe at it. You made contact as it was in midair. You heard it yelp as it came down, landing on top of you as you lay on the ground. You hit the ground hard, gasping as the werewolf lay on top of you, the axe suck in its chest.

You were sure it wouldn’t work. Nothing but a silver bullet could kill a werewolf. You waiting for it to regain itself and attack again; but it remained motionless. You gradually worked at pushing the thing off of you, scrambling from beneath it as you regained your footing. You were breathing hard, eyes wide when you realized that maybe this wasn’t a joke. Regardless, in the story, at least you had been able to slay the Big Bad Wolf with the axe. You waited a few minutes, prodding the lifeless body with your foot to make sure it was really dead. When you were satisfied, you retrieved the axe from the wolf and returned to pick up Chuck in the basket. He croaked at you and you smiled slightly, at least thankful that he was okay.

“We’re not done yet,” you explained as you looked down at Chuck. You considered reading the story again; maybe Chuck had left some clues as to what else you should expect; but the soft moonlight made it impossible to see much. So, with your axe and frog in hand, you continued on your path.

* * *

When you stumbled across the little cabin in the woods, you were sort of surprised that it hadn’t been more difficult. Only one obstacle had stood in your way, but you were happy to think that this would all be over soon. You assumed that once you slayed the wolf and made it to the cabin, the story would be over.

You entered the house, looking around as you waited. Nothing had happened when you entered. You were still in the woods and Chuck was still a frog. Something else had to happen. You pulled the papers out of your pocket, thumbing through them to see what happens next. Just as you began to read about meeting the Big Bad Wolf in the cabin; you realized that you weren’t in the clear.

“Chuck may have been the one to write the story,” you said out loud, “but we both know that you’re the one doing all of this.”

You turned around to face Gabriel.

“Semantics,” he grinned. “But, I always did love a good fairy tale.”

“Stop this, right now,” you demanded.

“Not a chance, Little Red.”

“That werewolf in the woods… you tried to throw me off. I thought for sure it was the Big Bad Wolf, but it was just a decoy.”

He cocked his head at you, a sly grin present on his face.

You stepped closer to him, deciding that you needed to play your part.

“My, what big eyes you have,” you began.

“The better to see you with,” he replied.

“What big ears you have.”

“The better to hear you with, sweetheart.” He smiled harder, happy to see that you were getting into it now.

“And, what a big, stupid mouth you have!” You shouted as you smacked him across the face.

“Ow!” Gabe covered his face now, looking like a wounded dog.

“Dammit Gabriel! Fix this!”

“I can’t! You have to do it.”

“What do I do?”

“Just follow the story.”

You grabbed the pages again, flipping through to see what was supposed to happen. You caught up to your current spot, skimming the words before you folded the papers back up and placed them in your pocket. You checked on Chuck again and placed him gently onto a table before you reached for the axe that you had dropped on the ground.

“You sure you want me to do that?” You asked, looking Gabe directly in the eyes.

“Doesn’t matter what I want.”

You didn’t hesitate. You were angry and frustrated now. All you wanted was for Chuck to be human again and for the two of you to be back in his house, safe. You raised the axe above your head, stepping toward Gabriel; who never even flinched. He just gave you that stupid grin again and you brought down the axe, crying out. You hit him directly in the chest, just as you had done with the werewolf in the woods. Only this time, you had killed the actual Big Bad Wolf. you let go of the handle, watching as the blade remained stuck in the archangels chest. He looked down at the axe, then back up to you before he collapsed on the ground.

You waited, watching Gabe’s lifeless body lie motionless. Chuck was still a frog and you could hear him croaking from the basket on the table.

“You didn’t really think that that was me, did you sweetheart?” A voice asked from behind you.

“I’m not an idiot,” you replied, “but, I still did what I was supposed to do. Why are we still here?”

“The story ain’t over yet.”

“What’s the point?” You asked as you turned around to face the real Gabriel.

“The point is,” he began, “I, like many others, am tired of watching the two of you while you pine after each other and not do anything about it. It was a romantic gesture on Chuck’s part; writing this story for you. I think he only wanted his happy ending. He may have ripped off some actual good fairy tales, but he tried. I figured, if I made you live his story, it might give one of you the motivation to actually do something about the fact that you love each other.”

“You’re an idiot,” you scowled.

“Don’t pretend that you don’t love him.”

“Fine,” you admitted, “maybe I do. And I played along with this whole stupid thing. I did my part, now fix him.”

“Well, I gotta leave that part up to you.”

“What else is there?” You shouted as you grabbed the papers again. You realized that you had never actually read the ending. The entire scenario was right there in Chuck’s story. If you hadn’t been so stupid and just read the whole thing, you probably could’ve ended this all a long time ago.

“You don’t really need to read the rest of the story, Y/N.” Gabe spoke softly. You dropped your hands in defeat, letting the papers fall from your hands onto the floor.

“It’s not in there? He didn’t finish it?”

“Sure it is, but you already know how it’s supposed to end.”

“I don’t…” you shook your head, not understanding.

“Come on, you did the whole Little Red bit. Now, we’ve got a frog in a basket. What does the princess have to do to get her prince?”

“I am not kissing a frog,” you replied when you realized what he meant.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Big, bad hunter, has only one real fear… amphibians.” He chuckled as he spoke, seemingly amused at the fact that you hated amphibians.

“It’s not funny,” you argued, “he’s slimy and gross.”

“Well, I guess if he were your one true love, it wouldn’t matter that he’s a frog. I thought he might be worth it to you. But, we can just stay in the story and see what happens when the princess doesn’t kiss her prince.”

“No!” you shouted quickly. You had had enough of this. You glanced over to the basket, biting your lip as you considered what you should do. Yes, you were really grossed out by amphibians. The thought of putting your lips on one made your stomach turn. But, this was Chuck; you were sure of it. You walked toward the basket on the table, opening the lid as you peeked in. the frog’s big blue eyes stared up at you and you felt nauseated again, but also sort of sad for Chuck.

You willed yourself to pick him up, grasping onto him with two fingers and placing him on your open palm of your other hand. You wondered if he could still do prophet stuff if he stayed a frog for a while longer.

You shook the thought from your head, knowing that you couldn’t do that to him. You hated the idea of kissing a frog, but you hated the idea of never seeing the real Chuck ever again. Gabriel watched you intently as you slowly brought the frog closer to your face.

You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your lips to the slippery, cold skin of the frog.

It only took a manner of seconds for the coldness and grossness of kissing the frog to wear off. You kept your eyes shut tight as you were met with warmth against your lips. You realized you were kissing a person now. You slowly opened your eyes and you tried not to gasp when you saw Chuck, the real Chuck, with his mouth pressed against yours; his own eyes shut tightly. You felt the comfort of his arms wrapped around your body and you closed your eyes again, smiling against his lips when you decided to let it go on for a little longer.

When you finally ended the kiss, you grinned at each other, both of you blushing now that you had finally kissed each other after all this time.

Chuck darted his eyes away from you, checking out your surroundings and you looked around as well. You were in the middle of Chuck’s living room, still holding each other as daylight peeked through the curtains of the windows.

“Was- was I frog just a minute ago,” he asked, scrunching up his face in concern.

“Yeah, and I just saved your ass.”

“You really kissed me to turn me back into myself?”

“I did, and it was gross,” you gave him a sly smile, “at first anyway.”

“You broke the spell,” he pointed out as he smiled back at you.

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

“You know,” he began, arms still wrapped around you, “I wrote it so that only the prince’s true love could break the spell.”

“Well, here we are,” you replied. “Maybe I do sort of love you.”

“You know I’ve always loved you too, right? I don’t stop my work to write fairy tales for just anyone.”

“Yeah, about that…” you pulled back from him slightly, remembering what he had just put you through, “maybe you should stick to the gospels.”

“I think I can do that,” he laughed. “It was Gabriel, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, that jerk thought it would be funny to put us in your story.”

“I mean, I don’t really hate him for it,” Chuck said. “Because of him, I finally got my kiss.”

“Next time, just ask,” you replied. You carded your fingers through Chuck’s hair, pulling him in for another kiss. This time, nothing was forcing you to kiss the prophet. Maybe Gabriel really had helped after all.


End file.
